Author Works
by Ari 347
Summary: Moving into a new neighborhood is bad enough, but Keith finds out that his neighbors just don't believe in privacy. Somehow, he finds himself embroiled in their pranks. Hijinks ensue!


**A/N:** Hello! I know I said it would take awhile to upload a chapter to my other stories, but here's a new story! It's been sitting half finished in my drive for months and I've finally finished it up. I highly doubt I'll get up to writing more chapters for awhile, mostly because of college, but I'll do my best.

Enjoy!

* * *

Keith collapsed onto the grass, letting out a quiet groan as his joints cracked. "I have to admit that I'm impressed. I never thought you'd move out of Allura and my house," Shiro said, sitting down beside him.

"Of course I was going to have to move out of there eventually. I'm not a child, Shiro." Keith looked up at the sky, squinting at the bright sunlight. "I'm a fully published author."

"You're a fully published author under a penname and no one knows you really exist. So excuse me if I don't fully believe you're a functioning adult." Reaching over, Shiro ruffled his younger brother's bangs.

Keith pushed the hand away and sat up. "I've got a house, a job, and money. How much more 'adult' do I have to be?"

"Get to know your neighbors so that they don't think you're snobby and stuck up. That's what happened by my place until Allura forced you to go to that block party." He stretched his arms up and got to his feet. "Come on. Your boxes and furniture are all inside, let's see how it looks now."

"I still have to unpack, you know," Keith said, accepting the hand his brother held out and pulling himself to his feet. "It's not really much of a home yet."

"Do you even own anything to decorate with? All you brought over were your clothes, laptop, and that one box of personal things. You barely even have furniture." Shiro headed for the house, Keith right behind him.

"I'll get stuff. I can always swipe a poster or two from the publisher. And I do too have furniture" As the pair walked through the door, Keith flicked the light switch, lighting up the first floor. Boxes lined the hallway and they both tried to avoid as many of them as possible. Still, Keith nearly fell head over heels over a low box that he didn't see. "Why did we think it was a good idea to dump all the boxes in the hall?"

Shiro caught his brother's arm as he fell. "From what I remember, you were the one who said we should leave them wherever. Not me. Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. Let's just get some of this stuff out of the way." Keith pushed away one of the boxes with his foot, giving them a path to the living room. "See? I've got a couch."

His brother gave said couch a critical glare. The purple monstrosity barely deserved to be categorized as furniture, let alone a couch. "Where did you even find that? And why did you buy it? You're usually more of a red guy than...purple."

"It was very comfortable when I tested it out in the store," Keith muttered defensively. "I like it, and it's not like anyone will ever see it except you and Allura."

"What are you talking about?"

Keith awkwardly scuffed his toe on the hardwood floor. "How many people do you really think are going to be in my apartment?"

"Maybe if you're more sociable people will hang around you. Get out more." Shiro gently punched his brother's arm. "You could always let people know who you are, get rid of that penname. You'd have plenty of friends then."

He scowled. "Not happening. I _like_ having privacy. If people knew who I was, I wouldn't be able to do anything without people stalking me."

"I was kidding. I know you would never do that. You're too asocial," Shiro replied, only half-joking. "Come on. Let's get you unpacked enough so that you have somewhere to sleep tonight."

"Yeah."

 **VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

It was long after dark by the time Shiro left to go back home. Keith stood in the middle of his empty living room, simply surveying the space that was now all his. The one thing he'd really missed while staying with Shiro and Allura was that he didn't have anywhere he could call his own. He sat down on his purple couch (yes, Shiro, it was a couch) and pulled his laptop onto his lap. Opening the lid, he scanned through his list of emails. It was always easier to type things out on his laptop than on his phone. His phone did some of the weirdest autocorrect mistakes ever, which led to many embarrassing, albeit humorous, events.

The only important email he'd received was from his editor, asking for the second draft of the next book in his series. After his first and second books had somehow become some of the most popular books in the country, his publisher had decided that he would release a new book every year until the completion of the series. This was the third book in the series and was due to come out in six months, which was making Keith more nervous than he should have been. Sure, he had a second draft of the story written up, but there was just something he didn't like about it. It wasn't something he could put his finger on, but there was just something there...

After sending a response to Thace, his editor, Keith set his laptop of the side and stretched, letting out a groan. Maybe there was something to what Shiro said about getting more furniture. The couch wasn't the best place to sit and work, not if he didn't want major back pain later on.

He went into the kitchen to see if he could find something to eat. As he rummaged through the cabinets, annoyed at himself for forgetting to buy junk food, the doorbell rang. Keith paused for a moment before continuing his search. It was nearly eleven at night. If a neighbor thought it was appropriate to come welcome him at this time of night, they could think of something else. He wasn't in the mood of answering the door right now. All he wanted was some comfort food, which he didn't have, unless Shiro had somehow snuck it in without him seeing.

Whoever was at the door obviously could not understand that he was ignoring them. They just kept ringing the doorbell until Keith had to hold himself back from shouting at the door. Instead he took a deep breath and walked to the door, pulling it open. "Wha - ?" he started, but the dark-haired man on his doorstep cut him off.

"Look, Pidge, I get it, you're upset at us, but seriously, the pranks – " He stopped, staring at Keith. "Wait. You're not Pidge."

"No, I'm not." Keith crossed his arms. "Who are you and why are you trying to get into my house?"

The man rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Oh, well, Pidge – my friend – lives next door to you, I guess, and I accidentally came here instead of her house. I'm Lance, Lance McClain."

"Keith." He reached out a hand and took hold of the door, getting ready to close it. "Great meeting you. Good night."

"Wait, what?" Lance's face took on a surprised look as Keith began pushing the door shut, forcing him out onto the porch. "That's rude!"

Keith gave him an icy glare. "You barging into my house late at night is rude. I'm just trying to get back to the way I was before. Now good. Night."

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint. Sheesh." Turning on his heel, Lance stormed down the path from the door to the street and disappeared into the darkness.

Now that the odd stranger was gone, Keith pushed his door shut and leaned against it. He should be completely pissed that this guy had barged in and disturbed him, but for some reason…he felt as though he wanted him to come in. He wanted the company now.

Pushing himself off the door, he shook his head and strode into the living room. It was late, and today had been long and involved more physical activity than he was used to doing lately. His book took up almost all of his time. His best bet right now was to get some rest and get ready to face the world tomorrow.

And if that meant his pesky new neighbors, then so be it.


End file.
